By David Glenn Cox
I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I’m waiting on this election like a child waits on Christmas. Soaking in every detail and reading out every possible scenario. For a political junkie like myself, this is mainlining sweet, sweet political heroin. I’ve waited for years and decades for this moment. But it leaves me in a quandary, sometimes. I can’t tell for sure if my suspicions are analytical or purely wishful romanticism. I’ve suffered many indignities under this political class of ours, and I’m so hoping they get the drubbing of a lifetime they so richly deserve.
My methods are not merely mathematical projections, but strange coincidences. I watched a news report from a local Texas station. Ken Paxton was speaking to supporters at a restaurant, while James Talarico was speaking to an overflowing hall in San Antonio. Pundits and pollsters tell us that early voting is especially heavy in cities and suburbs. While in Kansas, early voting is breaking records in Kansas City and her suburbs.
In Maine, a place where Donald Trump has no conception of what it’s like to live next to the Canadian border. He has no idea of the damage he’s done to their lives. No idea of the anger and expense he’s caused. The pundits suspect the daze of Susan (Just say anything) Collins are over. News reports tell us of a fuel shortage in Nebraska, where Sam’s Club and Casey’s pumps have run dry. “Oh, that’s going to really help!” As if they weren’t already pissed off enough.
The resident defect had planned a six-stop campaign trip and then suddenly upped it to ten stops. That’s pretty hard on an old duffer. Be careful now that you don’t break him. It’s a frenzy and a panic. The sky is falling! The sky is falling! Or should I say slushing and flushing out his words as only a dementia patient could. Going places where Republican Presidents have never gone before or never needed to go before. But 300,000 barrels of diesel fuel (one day’s supply) has just left the port of Saint Petersburg (Vladimir Putin’s home town) headed for New York Harbor. But like anything and everything Donald Trump touches, there is a SNAFU. (Situation Normal, All Fucked Up.)
The tanker is an orphan whom no one wants or claims. There is no contract made by or for anyone to purchase this diesel fuel. No one wants to touch it. Contracts to purchase oil are generally long-term over months and years. So a measly 300,000 barrels on a one-off deal is like purchasing a single slice of pizza. For a major oil company, it’s hardly worth the trouble of answering the phone. Mainly because while the Screw up-in-Chief can cancel his own sanctions, he can’t undo the law passed in 2022, making it illegal to import or purchase Russian oil. Buy this oil at your own peril! There’s an election coming, you know. Litigation could far surpass any possible profit margin. It is emblematic of the Trump administration. As they say back home in Alabama, he could fuck up a bread sandwich.
The farmers are pissed off in the Midwest. Farmers and city folks alike are pissed off in Michigan. (Early voting in Detroit has been massive. In South Carolina, where Lindsey Graham kicked the bucket. Trump picked his sister Darlene to replace him, without asking the local party leadership. Here’s your new candidate, fellas! Her name is Darlene. I’ve got to run now. Good luck! A similar situation occurred in Texas, where a safe, sane moderate Republican John Cornyn was declared NOT LOYAL ENOUGH by Donald Trump. (The Mighty Quin) Trump endorsed Ken Paxton over John Cornyn, and Paxton won the primary.
Is Texas in play? It is NOW! Paxton has a record and a stench as long as your arm, which would ruin a better man’s chances. He’s a well-known crook by the local electorate. See, why Trump likes him? Partying with criminal fugitives in Dubai, or out on a date with a woman not his wife. You begin to see this presidential figure, bumbling and stumbling through the muck and staggering out of the thick ooze and mist. What position should we take, Mr. President? “Eni meeny miny Moe. My mother says to pick this very one!”
It’s the defense budget, sir! The what? What kind of fence are we talking about here? I’ve built a lot of fences in my time. I was a contractor; you know! A concept where the staff work night and day to exhaustion trying to make an addled pile of shit ape-man dementia patient look sane and effective. “We should attack Cuba…tomorrow! Is my ballroom finished yet? I’ve got some ideas for some extra gold fixtures.” Mr. President, what about the war with Iran? The who? Is that thing still going on? I thought Pete said it was over already. In that case, we will attack Cuba the day after tomorrow! Do you suppose we could spray paint my desk gold?”
I think it’s the high fuel prices, but at the same time, it’s not. It is the war with Iran but it’s so much more. It’s the constant goofy screwball pandemonium. The tariffs which hit Iowa like Mike Tyson in his prime. Killing export markets for farmers and manufactures alike. Doubling the cost of diesel fuel and rather than solving the situation at hand, announcing. We’ll just get our diesel fuel from Vladimir Putin! We can buy our fertilizer from halfway around the world in Belarus. We don’t need Canada! As Belarus answers, “Huh? What are you talking about? Our potash is already spoken for.”
The craziness of Health Secretary Bobby the Boob. The deflecting pool. The screwball Pete Hogsbreath advocating for testosterone injections. And now, I’m not a health professional, but I think he’s had enough. There is only ONE bono fide true Trump success story. And that’s been the silencing of the Epstein files. They lay dormant like a ticking time bomb under his bed. And if and when he gets the shit kicked out of him in these midterm elections and becomes a wounded, lame, duck, they will go off.
It is difficult to know whether it’s been the Trump administration or the Billionaire media club who has so successfully hidden an economy in such bad, bad trouble. A housing bubble rivaling 2008, an inflation problem rivaling Jerry Ford’s “Whip Inflation Now!” Which was conveniently blamed on Jimmy Carter. A credit bubble with families living on credit cards, just to get by. The AI Data Center boom and bust is on track to become the largest bust in recorded human history. (You’ll like it! We just know you will.) Since the Pharaoh bankrupted Egypt with his crazy pyramid building scheme.
They needed ten trillion dollars to finish, and they’ve only got seven and a half trillion, all in. Which means that they can’t cover all their bets. Which is like the light coming on in the kitchen at midnight. The roaches are scurrying, for cover chanting, It’ll be fine! It’ll be fine! We’ll find a way out of this predicament, somehow! Vote Republican!
I see a tsunami coming where the Democrats run the table, In Texas, Ohio, Michigan, Maine, South Carolina, Iowa, Kansas and Alaska. Blowing the forecasts and projections to hayseeds. A nation filled with an angry and discontented electorate almost pushed to its absolute breaking point, and about to explode. Sick and God-dammed tired of all the fucking nonsense. The manipulative media claim that the Republican voters are coming out to vote on November 3rd. Just you wait! You’ll see! They say, they’re coming! But I say that they aren’t coming. They’ve been had and been used and abused, just like everyone else. They now sit at their kitchen tables, looking at their finances, and they say to themselves. “I’ll show them! I’m staying home!” Fuck that old orange bastard!
“You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out the saints are comin’ through
And it’s all over now, Baby Blue” – Bob Dylan
“You have sat too long here for any good you have been doing! Depart, I say, and let us have done with you! In the name of God, go!”- Oliver Cromwell, 1653
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